The Scent of Waikiki (Trouble in Paradise Book 9) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  About the Author

  Books by Terry Ambrose

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Authors Notes

  THE SCENT OF WAIKIKI

  trouble in paradise

  a mckenna mystery

  TERRY AMBROSE

  COPYRIGHT

  THE SCENT OF WAIKIKI

  ASIN: B07CZ3B389

  Copyright © 2018 by Terry Ambrose

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Cover photo by Dar Albert

  Cover design by Pen2Ink Designs

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Once upon a time, in a life he’d rather forget, Terry Ambrose tracked down deadbeats for a living. He also hired big guys with tow trucks to steal cars—but only when negotiations failed. Those years of chasing deadbeats taught him many valuable life lessons such as—always keep your car in the garage.

  Terry has written more than a dozen books, several of which have been award finalists. In 2014, his thriller, “Con Game,” won the San Diego Book Awards for Best Action-Thriller. To learn more about Terry, visit him on his website at terryambrose.com.

  Find Terry’s books on Amazon: amazon.com/Terry-Ambrose/e/B008NR7QZ4

  Twitter: twitter.com/suspense_writer

  Facebook: facebook.com/suspense.writer

  BOOKS BY TERRY AMBROSE

  A Seaside Cove Bed & Breakfast Mystery

  A TREASURE TO DIE FOR

  CLUES IN THE SAND

  McKenna Mysteries

  PHOTO FINISH

  KAUAI TEMPTATIONS

  BIG ISLAND BLUES

  MYSTERY OF THE LEI PALAOA

  HONOLULU HOTTIE

  NORTH SHORE NANNY

  A DAMSEL FOR SANTA

  MAUI MAGIC

  License to Lie Series

  LICENSE TO LIE

  CON GAME

  A Lei Crime Kindle World

  TOUGH CHOICES

  STEALING HONOLULU

  Anthologies with Stories

  PARADISE, PASSION, MURDER: 10 TALES OF MYSTERY

  FROM HAWAI‘I

  HAPPY HOMICIDES 3: SUMMERTIME CRIMES

  HAPPY HOMICIDES 4: FALL INTO CRIME

  HAPPY HOMICIDES 5: THE PURR-FECT CRIME

  HAPPY HOMICIDES 6: COOKING UP CRIME

  CHAPTER 1

  People smile for a million different reasons. Some are happy. Or confident. Or, as was my case right now, over-the-moon infatuated. You see, my name is McKenna, and I’ll admit to being many things—past my prime, out of shape, and grumpy. Those, of course, are no cause to crack a smile. But being over-the-moon infatuated with the love of my life? Now that was a hands-down winner and caused me to break out in a full-on smile each time I looked at her.

  Her name is Benni Kapono and right now she was sitting across from me on my lānai. With bronze skin and dark hair, Benni’s a true island girl. Born and raised on O’ahu, her family had been here for more than a hundred years. Benni flipped back her hair, which she usually wore long and parted to the right, and looked straight at me. “Why do you have such a goofy grin on your face, McKenna?”

  I’d spent most of my life chasing deadbeats and the past couple of years solving murders. No longer did I feel a need to do that. I felt alive. Invigorated. Actually, I was over-thinking this whole thing. My answer was so much simpler. All I needed was one little word. I leaned back and gazed into her eyes. “You.”

  Benni stuck out her lower lip and blew out a breath, then smiled. “Aren’t you Mr. Smooth tonight?”

  “I’m just happy you’re here. It’s been lonely in this little apartment since you went back to the Big Island.”

  “Yah. I feel the same. You know, we still have to figure out the living arrangements for after the wedding.”

  I winced and glanced out at the ocean. The sunset was full of brilliant reds, bright pinks, purples, and grays. An endless variety of colors and shades complemented the vastness of the Pacific. Since moving here, I’d become convinced Monet had nothing on Mother Nature. Unfortunately, Benni would only be here for a few more days, and I wanted this habit to last forever.

  Turning back to her, I said, “Tough question—which one of us moves?”

  She averted her gaze and watched the horizon. Living arrangements were the one big issue we hadn’t resolved. Which one of us gave up our home? I lived here in Honolulu; she, in Kona. There were nearly two hundred miles of ocean between us. At times, it felt like we’d taken the cliché “it’s complicated” to a whole new level.

  “I’ve been thinking about moving to the Big Island.”

  “Seriously?” Her eyes widened and she cocked her head to one side. “But you love your apartment.”

  “I know, but it might be time for another change. Anyway, you only have a few days here, and we have a lot of loose ends to tie up.”

  “Thank goodness I have help. Lexie has been a lifesaver.” She paused, wrinkled her nose, and her brown eyes locked onto mine. “You, on the other hand, have been no help whatsoever.”

  Ouch. I thought I had been. I’d played the role of Mr. Agreeable. “So you want me to do more than be a guy who says yes to your slightest whim?”

  She tilted her wine glass at me and for the briefest moment I feared she might throw it in my face. No. It was too good. Her smile returned, and then she winked.

  “It’s your wedding, too. Let’s shoot for something other than ‘that sounds good to me.’ I appreciate you being so cooperative.”

  “I just want it to be perfect for you. Everything you ever wanted.”

  Benni laughed, and her face lit up. “I don’t think any bride ever gets everything on her wish list. Especially these days. Weddings are so expensive.” She reached out and took my hand. “I’m just happy we’re having the ceremony on the beach. We’ll have our ‘ohana there and that’s all that matters.”

  “Now I really feel like a schmuck. I should have been helping with more decisions. That’s changing. Ri
ght here. Right now.”

  “So Mr. Agreeable is becoming Mr. Helpful? That’s great. I’d love to have your opinions.”

  “Tell you what, you’re going in for your fitting tomorrow. How about if I go with you? Yah?”

  Benni snickered and shook her head. “Seriously? You choose the wedding dress as the time to pitch in? No, Lexie’s driving me and will be there. You, however, can go with me to talk to the minister on Thursday.”

  Our wedding official was a friend of Benni’s family. She and her brother Alexander had grown up with the woman who now called herself Sarah the Chaplain. According to them, Sarah’s heart was filled with aloha and she was the perfect one to help us begin our new lives together. I agreed to have her perform the service during one of my Mr. Agreeable moments. Now, I wasn’t so sure. The problem was simple. Sarah rubbed me the wrong way for some reason and the thought of starting a new life with Benni on a down note seemed—well, hypocritical. Despite my concerns, I’d resolved to go with the family friend. I just hoped I didn’t come to regret the decision.

  “Look, I trust both you and Alexander and if you both say she’s perfect, I’m good with the choice.” I winked at Benni, then raised and lowered my eyebrows several times. “Besides, Sarah is very inspiring and I’m sure she’ll have me ready to fulfill my husbandly duties on schedule.”

  Benni laughed and rubbed her nose like she was trying to make a bad scent go away. “You just lost your title as Mr. Smooth, buddy. That sounds more like a sleazy come-on.”

  I wasn’t a sleaze. I was just a mid-sixties guy who’d fallen hard for a younger woman. At times, my libido outpaced my stamina, and my mouth got one step ahead of my brain. I cleared my throat. “Can I have a do-over? How about, I’m sitting here on my lānai getting ready to marry the most beautiful woman in the world, sipping a very nice glass of wine, and watching a stunning sunset. I have every reason to be happy.”

  She nodded at me. “As long as nothing bad happens, maybe I will marry you.” She winked and smiled as she gazed at the horizon. “Maybe.”

  CHAPTER 2

  The sun had dropped below the horizon and evening colors were in their final moments when the front doorbell rang. It was eight-fifteen. Who would be stopping by now? No sooner had the question popped into my head than a woman’s singsong voice called out from the other side of the screen door.

  “Yoo-hoo! McKenna!”

  Experience had taught me the screen was far more effective at keeping out flying pests than the office hours sign was at deterring the two-legged kind. The voice was not one I recognized, so I looked at Benni. She shrugged and hooked her thumb over her shoulder. Got it. You’re the apartment manager; go see who it is.

  A woman with her arm in a sling peered at me through the screen door. Oh my God, it was one of my tenants. “Grace? Are you okay?” I should have recognized Grace Takahashi right away, but between the security lighting in the hallway and fine wires of the mesh, her features appeared surreal. Then there was that cast.

  “Yah, McKenna, I’m okay.”

  “What are you doing here at this hour? Is something wrong in the apartment?”

  “No, no. The apartment is fine.” She grimaced as she clasped her right shoulder with her left hand.

  I pointed at the sling, being careful not to mention that right now she looked like a victim in a zombie movie. “That looks painful.”

  “Could I talk to you for a minute? I’d rather not do this out here.”

  I unlatched the screen door, popped the handle, and made way for her to enter. “No worries. Come in.”

  “Mahalo,” she muttered as she slipped by me.

  I’ve managed the Sunsetter Apartments for several years now. The owners have told me how good I am at my job. One reason they like me is I’ve heard all the excuses before. In my former life, before the role of apartment manager, I was a skip tracer. It had been my job to find deadbeats when they tried to disappear. I'd learned to read a lot of different things—people, their reactions, the subtext between the lines, and the realities of when to keep going and when to call it quits.

  For the record, knowing when to call it quits is not the same as actually doing it. I never gave up on a skip. The phrase, “dog with a bone,” was one description used for me. The people I found often had their own more graphic renditions. They frequently also had suggestions about what I might do to myself—quite inappropriate suggestions.

  Like the owners, my tenants appreciated me. With them, I'd exercised the same zeal I’d shown as a skip tracer, telling them they could contact me any time they had a problem. The operative word in that permission statement was “problem.” So, what was Grace’s?

  Gone was her normally friendly smile and her aging society-girl image. She was someone who had some sort of difficulty niggling at her—and I was somehow involved.

  When Grace saw Benni sitting at the table, she stopped and turned to face me. “This can wait if you two are busy. I know you have a wedding to plan.”

  Benni stood and came to join us. The two of them exchanged a hug, but Benni avoided touching the arm in the sling. “Did you have an accident?”

  “If you don’t want to talk about it, it’s okay,” I said.

  “No, no. It’s part of the reason I’m here.”

  “Do you need me to leave you two alone for a bit?” Benni asked.

  But Grace didn’t hesitate, she just backed up a step and grimaced. “It’s about the rent.”

  Uh-oh. Not a good opening. I had a full-blown landlord panic attack going on. I didn’t really want Grace parking herself on my couch, but something told me this was going to take some time. “Would you like to sit?”

  “I can’t pay my rent this month,” she blurted. “I lost everything to one of those scam guys you’re always talking about.”

  Grace? Scammed? She was so level-headed. My jaw worked a couple of times. Nothing came out.

  “I know,” she continued. “It was stupid. The guy was so convincing. Yah? Isn’t that what you always say? The smoother they are, the slipperier they are?”

  “I’ve never...said that before.” To make her feel better, I added, “But it’s a good line.”

  “I’m so sorry.” Benni stepped forward to give Grace another hug. “What happened?”

  Oh, yeah, that should have been my reaction. Apparently, I was in full stupid-me mode. Anything I said was only going to help me dig a hole deep enough to bury myself and my personal belongings. I could use a backhoe. That would let me finish the job sooner.

  Benni held my gaze, sighed and shook her head. She had one of those stop-being-pathetic looks on her face. “McKenna would like to say he’s sorry, too, but I think he’s having a brain aneurysm.”

  “Call 9-1-1.” I shot back with a look that said, “take that.” I turned to Grace and said, “So tell me what happened.”

  Grace shrugged. “There was this guy—I met him online. I gave him money for a sales display kit. I never should’ve done it. It was a stupid mistake because the next day somebody cleaned out my account.”

  “They got everything?”

  “Yah. And I never even got the display kit!”

  “Wow. How can I help?”

  Grace looked delighted. Benni stared at me like I really was having that aneurysm. And I realized that in my effort to not sound pathetic, I’d violated McKenna’s Skip Tracing Secret #6—people have a weakness, find it and use it against them. It was a solid violation. No gray areas whatsoever. I’d used my own penchant for helping others against myself.

  When I proposed to Benni, I promised that I was done fixing other people’s problems. I swore to her and to myself I would never become involved in any kind of untoward activity again. That meant no scams, no murders, not even a parking violation. The worst part was I hadn’t even meant to ask the stupid question.

  But it was too late. The words were gone. Irretrievable. I’d volunteered to help Grace, so I sighed and waited as the backhoe did its thing and buried me in a lo
ad of quicksand.

  CHAPTER 3

  Not far from my lānai slider, waves lapped on the shore. They were soft, audible, and created a peaceful atmosphere most of the time. But at this moment, it was pin-drop time in my living room. And I’d done this all on my own. Maybe I’m just one of those people who can’t stop themselves from sticking their nose where it doesn’t belong.

  “So, um, what was this display kit?” I asked.

  “It was for my dream job. I love being involved in helping people look better and I saw this as a way to get into the field. It was only a part-time sales gig, but I wasn’t going to have a boss looking over my shoulder or anything like that. I should have been on guard because the guy said the income potential was huge. He was talking about four-thousand a month. I told myself it was just his sales pitch. I only did it because my goal is to work for a company that makes beauty products. Fragrances are my favorite thing of all. The guy said I’d get this new perfume called Primal in the kit. Getting a bottle of Primal ahead of the market was what really sold me.”

  Benni got it. I could see it on her face. Me, I had no clue. Again. “I don’t follow ladies perfumes much.”

  “Typical guy,” Benni snickered. “What happened, Grace?”

  “It turned out there was no job at all. He was just scamming me.”

  Apparently, Grace was stuck on instant replay. I got it. She’d just lost everything. “I’d be happy to give you some guidance. You should start with a police report.”

  Grace nodded. “I did that. They said they don’t have the manpower to investigate.”

  Strike one. It wasn’t even a surprise. The cops couldn’t investigate every single case like this. “Well, maybe we can figure out a way to get the bank to help. I’m sure they don’t want to lose one of their customers.”

  “They say there's nothing they can do, either,” Grace said.

  Uh oh. That meant the bank felt Grace was somehow responsible for what had happened. Call that one strike two. Both Benni and Grace looked at me like they were expecting some sort of miracle. The truth was, there were none. The odds of getting Grace’s money back were so long a bookie would laugh at the bet.